Archive of Our Own ^beta

"You have been convicted to committing school vandalism and despite your many warnings you still submit into disobeying school rules, due to your juvenile acts you have to-"

"Teach," Terushima groans, stuffing his hands deep in his pockets as he throws his head back, watching the cheap-ass ceiling fan creak with ancient tremors and involuntary pauses, "this is dragging out too long, can you cut to the chase?"

Bobata stifled his chuckle and awkwardly shifted from one foot to the other when she shot him daggers and a grimace. He places his hands behind his back to intertwine his own fingers there, casting his eyes to his school slippers and sealing his lips from any other sounds and words he would unwillingly make.

In the faculty room full of peering eyes of shameless teachers, Terushima's homeroom teacher sits at her desk with arms crossed over her chest as she looks up at them with deep distress and a scowl that would give her wrinkles sooner than her young age would let on.

The teacher, Nakamura-sensei, huffs and pulls her eyeglasses up to rest over her head, her sleep-deprived eyes showing all signs of distaste in his ongoing behaviour, "Terushima, this is a huge blow to your reputation, do you realise this?" She doesn't bat another eye in Bobata's direction - she didn't remember his name to begin with. "How are we supposed to insert such content into your transcript?" 

"Just write : 'highlighted everyone's fucking school year but was confronted for being too damn funny'" Terushima shrugs and rolls his eyes to break the stare he held with his teacher. There was a snicker across the room but Bobata chose to ignore it. 

"Language," she monotones, like a broken record getting tired of repeating the same tune when it was obvious that it could play others. Nakamura-sensei shakes her head and flicks her weary eyes back to the extra guy, "And you... Bondo...?"

Bobata restrained himself from rolling his eyes at her, he just told her his name two minutes ago. It can't be helped, Bobata was just another guy in Terushima's clique, there wasn't supposed to be a name to go with such a plain face like his. The only reason he's still right next to the most dazzling student in the school is because they were best friends ever since elementary school, Terushima treated him like any other good friend. "Bobata," Terushima complies to presenting his name for a second time, seeming to bear his agitation for him with bared teeth and furrowed brows, "learn his fucking name already."

Bobata wants to smile, but he's too unenergised to bring himself to. Of course they'd get caught, for something so frivolous too. Was this three-month punishment really worth setting up sixty alarm clocks all over the second-year's floor with one minute intervals between them?

Well, yeah. It was incredibly funny. Watching teachers and class representatives squawk around like headless chickens halfway into second period was just enough to hurt your stomach and clear your head of any stressful thoughts during math class.

But the fucker that snitched on them was none other than Terushima's older brother, who was also a teacher in the school.

"Watch yourself, or I'll be forced to extend your punishment for another year," she wags a warning finger in his direction before spinning on her chair and looking over her files as she filters through them for specific ones that the dean had bestowed upon her to pass on to the not-so-delinquents before her. She pulls them out, taking an extra second to look over the one with Bobata's name on as if she had already forgotten. She turns back to them and hands them in with a crooked smile before sliding her glasses back to settle on the bridge of her nose and keeping her fingers over the rim, "I really hope you learn your lesson after spending time with the student council, boys," Terushima squints at her and gives her one last grunt before nudging his shoulder against Bobata's and letting him lead the way out of the room, "And Terushima!" He turns halfway as he's already out the door, a scowl painted over his features and Bobata didn't get to hear the rest of what she had to say because Terushima-sensei was approaching and he felt every nerve in his body force his hand to grab at Terushima's and tug him away, not really caring for Terushima's confusion and the protests from Nakamura-sensei.

The halls are empty and the low-setting sun shines a harsh orange through the windows, gleaming angrily at him and he scowls back but not because of the light. He was bitter about the face Terushima-sensei was making as he got closer to the faculty room. It was smug, like he was ready to blabber own about how much of a failure his little brother was and about how precarious he'd be when he got older. He had already witnessed a squabble between them over a year ago, almost ending in a brawl had he not pulled Terushima away to cool his head by taking him to the arcade and treating him to a papico. He knows the bad-blood between them, so he wishes to avoid their interactions when Terushima's not under the best lighting.

"What's up?" Bobata only lets go when they're in front of the student council's room, and Terushima only speaks when he finally gets a good look at Bobata's distraught face.

"Your brother was walking our way at five-thousand kilometres per second, he was pissing me off," Bobata sighs and catches a glimpse of his face discolouring before pulling his file open and reading over the low supplication of details about their punishment. He takes a peek at Terushima's when he does the same and finds it in a similar state.

"Do we just go in?" Terushima grumbles, already busting through the door without knocking, waltzing in like he already owns the goddamn place, "'Kay, who's in charge here?" 

"That would be me," a stuck-up - and possibly more or less a kiss-up as well - snarky kid beams behind his large desk. He pushes his half-framed glasses up his nose and stares in between Terushima and where Bobata settles next to him. His eyes analysing their postures, faces, everything that made him smile even more creepily, "I'm Sakuragi, but you will address me as Student Council President," he proclaims and folding his arms over his normal school desk which he thought made him look more superior for having it out of line with the others that were paralleled.

Terushima leans closer to Bobata and mutters adversely, "This fucker for real?"

"I heard you," Sakuragi brings his interlinked hands up to rest his chin atop of, an unimpressed expression taking over his features. 

"Does it look like a fucking care?" Terushima slouches and darts his gaze back at him in irritation. 

"Yoshino, make it a note that this one is extremely volatile," he murmurs to the girl that stood next to his desk like she was another creep. 

Great, this whole place would be full of creeps. 

"Yessir," she pulls out a book from behind her and Bobata is contemplating whether it was held there the whole time or she tucked it under the waistband of her skirt. 

She jots down some notes and Terushima clicks his tongue, "Making a nuisance out of me already?"

"You may not know because of how you view people, but half of these people here are in your class, Terushima-kun," Sakuragi condemns him, "we already have an idea of what you are like through our confidants," he gestures to about seven others that were seated accordingly at the filed desks, all gawking at them sheepishly. 

"And Bobata?" Terushima bothers to mention, when clearly none of them have even heard of him. His notes start here. 

"This fine gentlemen? I'm sorry but your face is new to us, we will be observing you closely from here on out," he pushes himself up from his chair and walks around his pretentious desk, not to approach them but to lean on it with both hands gripping at it. 

"What an eyesore," Bobata didn't mean to utter it, but he really couldn't help it, he feels a little less self-conscious about it when Terushima starts laughing.

"What was that?" Sakuragi pulls a puzzled look on his face, making Bobata only grateful for his half-invisible aura. He doesn't need to be labelled as rude on his first day.

"Can I ask a few questions?" Bobata speaks up, feeling tired of the tension and throwing a glowering stare in the onlookers direction who suddenly all have something to do, "How does this exactly work? We kinda have volleyball practice so..."

"Volleyball? That distasteful sport?" He looks like a tennis kinda guy, Bobata internally curses him for it, "There won't be any of that nonsense for the next months, the student council takes top priority," he leans towards Yoshino who takes the hint to move closer. He whispers something that Bobata can't hear, and she flips to a new page before scribbling God-knows-what on it. 

"Excuse me?" Terushima growls, "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Exactly as stated, forget your mindless pastime because I expect a hundred percent devotion to the student council," he smirks deviously and crosses his arms before adjusting his gaze, like he was looking down at them despite being clearly shorter than both. "Welcome to the student council, Terushima-kun and..."

"Bobata," he cuts in before Terushima snaps for him, he slaps Terushima between his stiff shoulder blades and bows a little, "please look after us."

"The only distasteful thing is your personality," Terushima grumbles, stalking to an empty desk and slamming his file down on it. He places himself firmly on the seat and kicks his feet up with his heels on top of his file, his arms crossed and his lips pursed. "Don't expect me to do any hard labouring."

"Of course not, your lackey here seems to be the more capable one here."

Terushima knocks over two tables on his rampage to clasp his hands around the president's neck. It took three people and a threatened restraining order to tear them apart. Terushima doesn't receive any rebuking from anyone other than Bobata, who made sure to give him an earful about keeping his temper in check.

Bobata was used to it, having Terushima step up for him even after his height advantaged Terushima's. He didn't really know when he'd stop feeling the need to voice out Bobata's own frustrations, but it had to stop eventually.

A week into the punishment, they were posted for patrolling the halls during lunch breaks and Terushima was ditching his post to say hi to Bobata near the school's indoor pool centre. Terushima was pushing at the locked doors idly as he chatted, like he was silently wishful that some force would unlock them just for him.

"Shouldn't you be heading back before Mr. Hotshot starts losing his hair?" Bobata fiddles with the band that he had around his arm. The displeasing, authorising yellow clashes with the sleeve of his green school blazer.

"Bald would suit him," Terushima shrugs, giving the door handles one last tug before settling to rest his whole body against the door with his forehead leaning on it.

Bobata looks up from his armband and purses his lips in consideration, "maybe when he's over twenty he'd start shaving his head, he seems to love growing out his hair like the weeds in his fucking greenhouse."

Terushima snorts and turns over to press his back against the door, his hips jutting out a little awkwardly with the long handle in the way of getting completely comfortable.

Bobata stares at him silently, taking in the sight before him. Terushima was always sure to make his feelings obvious to the whole world, in his words as well as his gestures. He looks exhausted today, his hair was a little dishevelled. He even forgot his tie today, though he hates not wearing it when it seems to be the only likeable part of their uniform. His face droops when he spoke again, "My brother came over for dinner last night. Obviously just so he could hear all about my punishment and  how my parents would lecture me." Terushima rolls his eyes until they meet Bobata's, his frown replaced suddenly by a lazy smirk, "What did your dad say?"

"He congratulated me," Bobata chuckles, "even treated me to ramen even though his fiancée had fixed us a perfectly good dinner." Bobata turns his eyes to watch the students who couldn't seem any less interested in the boy next to Terushima Yuuji. They were watching, their glances unsubtle and some even tried to close in on them.

"What a terrible dad," Terushima grumbles jokingly, pushing himself off the door to walk away slowly, "I'm heading back, see ya after school," he waves to Bobata with his back to him. Bobata watches him weave into the crowd and finally get called out to by many, he ignored them as he turned sharply to go up the stairs, leaving them all unanswered with an irritated expression.

Bobata was posted near the pool centre pretty often for the next week, he was uninformed as to why. No one was really around it during any hours. His lunch breaks were full of fruitless lookout for any intruders and any mishaps that occurred before its hallway. There was the occasional few minutes that Terushima visited him, those were the only highlights.

Terushima brought him some yakisoba bread from the lunch hall, they stood by the windows rather than the large doors of the centre and watched the free ones actually enjoy their break times. 

"I was assigned to patrol the courtyard, no one was even fucking there," Terushima informs him with a mouthful of his own food, he pulls the window open and lets the cool breeze mingle with the beating sun's rays. "I feel like I'm being taken lightly, Specs should watch his back or else something's coming."

Bobata laughs, "What're you gonna do? Pop one of his glasses' lenses off?"

"Don't test me."

After school, before their daily meetings, Sakuragi walks in and gets his biting. No one even noticed Terushima setup two used blackboard dusters on the doors that were left ajar. Undoubting eyes all shift to Terushima who was a collected figure as he rocked on the president's chair with his feet planted on all his documents on the desk.

"Terushima-kun, I hope you acknowledge the fact that there will be consequences for your behaviour," Sakuragi smiles dryly as he takes his glasses off to swipe the chalk dust off them. Yoshino and another girl rush to his side and brush off all the leftovers that collected on his uniform.

"I hope you realise that patrolling isn't my thing in the least," Terushima picks a pen off the floor when his feet pushed them off, he twirls the pen and cocks an eyebrow at it in disbelief after realising it's a fountain pen, "You should make me and Bobata do some actual work, this is getting boring and if it goes on you should expect more ambushes," he says without tearing his eyes off the fancy pen that was slipping ink onto his fingertips.

"Dude, you don't have to be so melodramatic," Bobata laughs from his place, sitting by Terushima's feet on Sakuragi's desk, "I really don't care about what job they make us do," he straightens his back when Terushima trains his eyes on him without moving the pen away from his face.

"Whatever," Terushima rolls his eyes and brings his feet back on the floor before standing up, "I report nothing, again, so meeting adjourned." Terushima waves his hand nonchalantly before pushing Bobata up and shoving him towards the door.

Sakuragi doesn't falter from his spot in front of the door, building a firm wall between them and the door with his underlings at his sides, "I personally do not care for what you have to say, but Bobata-kun... have you observed any unusual activities near your post?"

Terushima peeks up at Bobata from behind him and Bobata doesn't really know what to say because he hasn't even been paying attention at all himself, "Uh, no?"

Sakuragi nods in clear-as-day disappointment before stepping aside, "We will continue having you patrol the area until your contact ceases, so please keep a watchful eye." 

"Yeah, okay," Bobata's voice was hoarse and scratchy when he finds all eyes on him. He cringes at himself but didn't have time to correct his affirmation when Terushima was already pushing him out of the door and then stopping so he could start walking off on his own, having Bobata follow in tow.

"What was that about?" Terushima muses, hands automatically finding themselves in his trouser's pockets as he whisks a small glance over his shoulder.

"Dunno," Bobata shrugs, staring out the windows that let the same orangey scenery play against them. The whimsical view was dulling his mood, he was getting sleepy and rubbed his eyes as he retrained them to Terushima's back. The lighting defined his slight slouch and glistened off his bleached hair. Even though Bobata wasn't staring at his face, he could tell that it wasn't only the boring patrolling assignments that were wearing him down, "You going straight home?" 

Terushima's head tilts back a little, thinking before finally answering, "No," solemnly.

Bobata was definitely just overanalysing his response, but he couldn't help but feel the unrest ooze out of his tone, "Wanna hang out?"

"Yeah," he replies like he was just waiting for Bobata to suggest it himself.

"You suck!" Terushima hollers behind the fence, "put some more power into it!"

"Shut it, blondie," Bobata points at him threateningly in protest, letting his bat drop to the base with its compact echoing through the whole batting centre, "I'm just rusty from not getting enough practice lately."

Terushima threads his fingers through the meshes of the fence, a cocky smirk playing on his lips, "You do realise we played volleyball, right?"

"Fuck you," Bobata missed two balls talking to him, he summons up all concentration and tightens both hands around the bat, "This whole student council thing is also cutting into my personal training time."

Terushima is quiet for the next pitching that the dispenser throws at Bobata who hits the ball into a foul. Bobata glimpses at his blank expression in curiosity, having expected him to hoot at him and throw him off like the first few ones. He lunges his bat forth again and misses the homerun mark by a landslide.

"Practicing what?" Terushima finally speaks up again after the next pitch.

"My serves," Bobata answers sheepishly, squaring his shoulders briefly before reverting back to his batting stance. 

"Oh," Bobata wishes Terushima wasn't speechless right now, he wants him to talk about nonsense and clear his head by letting him taunt him. Not fill his head with fretting thoughts of not getting enough practice and blunting his own honed skills, "Did you stay after practice to train?"

"Not always," he feels the need to insist. He doesn't want Terushima to feel self-guilty for making them lose their training days, "but it's fine-

"Sorry, Bobata," Terushima interjects and Bobata completely stops and steps off the base, swinging the bat up to rest on his shoulder before veering his undivided attention towards Terushima's direction, his eyes were set downcast. Terushima Yuuji was never one to take anything seriously. He was smart, he was funny, he was good a volleyball. He has no reason for letting it weigh him down like this. "If I hadn't suggested the prank you could've-"

"Okay, stop right there," Bobata intercepts, waiting for Terushima to look up before letting a smug grin takeover, "If you say some mushy shit about being sorry for taking away volleyball from me, don't be. I mean, yeah I love it and everything, but I only really joined because you did. I wouldn't have continued playing in uni, honestly. Besides, we're only in our second year, and we have the rest of this year and a few months of the next to play. We can still play in the spring tournaments, and even though we'll be a little rustier we can still catch up and practice harder to be able to face the others," Bobata strolls up to where Terushima stood by the fence, the next baseball making it tremble with the next hit, "What was it that you usually said? That you'd play harder than everyone else here?" Bobata lifts his free hand up and clenches it into a fist before pressing it against the fence, "Weren't you going to show the upperclassmen how worthy you were of being next captain?"

Terushima brings his own fist up to bump Bobata's, and despite the fence being in the way, Bobata can still feel his nerves electrify. "Damn right," Terushima smirks up at him for a moment before finally turning away, his fist dropping hesitantly to his side and mumbling, "Switch out with me, you suck."

"Aye, Cappy," Bobata jests and salutes with two fingers, earning him an unimpressed expression from Terushima. 

"Don't, just fucking don't," he tries to sound menacing but he snorts out a small laugh as they meet by the open fence gate.

Bobata hands him the bat but doesn't let go immediately. "Just so you know, you've been flaunting all day so I want a wager."

Terushima cocks a brow at him and licks his lips, "Go on."

"If you score more points than me, I'll treat you to anything from the convenience store until winter break."

"And if I don't?"

"I don't know man, just do something like treat me to shit," Bobata grumbles.

"What am I? Your boyfriend?" Terushima chuckles nervously, "Give me something to actually do."

"I don't know yet, I'll think of it later, s'not like you're actually gonna score any points," he shrugs and loosens his grip on the bat enough for Terushima to snatch it out of his grasp.

"Watch me," Terushima claims, jabbing the butt of the bat against Bobata's side before jogging up to the base, retaking Bobata's old spot, "I'll hit all your leftovers and it'll be enough."

It wasn't and Terushima was brooding for most of the next day. "Just tell me then, I'm getting tired, man," Terushima whines for the umpteenth time as they sat waiting patiently for their beloved student council president to show up for the after school meeting.

"Fucking hell, dude," Bobata groans when Terushima finally gets on all of his nerves, "just fucking figure it out or something, buy my dad's fucking milk for him or something, like I fucking care." Bobata huffs, burying his head in his arms that were folded over his desk.

"Didn't know you were capable of swearing that much, Bobata-san," an underclassman pipes up, his blunt mind always getting the better of him and Bobata noted to not talk to him much.

"It must be Terushima-kun's bad habits that poor Bobata-kun had unfortunately picked up," Sakuragi answers when he enters just in time to hear the brunt of the conversation. He walks to his desk with a stack of papers in arm, his secretary, Yoshino, in tow with just as much paperwork.

"Bobata was the one who taught me how to swear," Terushima seems to feel obligated to inform and it turns all eyes on Bobata just as he lifts his head. He really didn't need any of the attention and this much was short-circuiting his mind.

"I find it hard to believe," Sakuragi analyses Bobata the most intently, he feels so exposed, "By the way, Bobata-kun, how is everything?"

"Huh?" Bobata's voice cracks at the simple syllable, he clears his throat and throws a nervous glance at Terushima who just shrugs in equal confusion.

"I meant your assignment, nothing weird happening around your post?" Sakuragi drops his papers and presses them neatly before grabbing Yoshino's share and piling them atop, repeating his tidying actions.

"Oh, no..." Bobata mumbles slightly and forcing himself to look away from the other participants of the meeting in hopes of getting their stares off his mind.

"Alright-" Sakuragi was cut off when another member of the student council chirps up and starts reporting to him. Bobata feels relieved that they moved on from him.

But Yoshino doesn't seem to think the conversation has ended and moves over to where he and Terushima sat at their desks, notebook and pen in either hand, "Bobata-kun, I'd like you to give me all details about the atmosphere near your post, Sakuragi-san is being too careless since he's dealing with you two."

"The fuck's that supposed to mean, I don't-"

"It's fine by me, but there's really nothing going on," Bobata interrupts Terushima and shrugs as he stares up at her with a monotoned expression. "No one ever comes near the doors at all other than me, students outside also don't come near the windows of the centre..." It was on the tip of his tongue, something he wanted to report over a week ago but he only recalls seeing Terushima for the most part of his patrolling. "I think there was something off about the door, but..."

She's got everything he said down to the nub of it on her damned notebook, no doubt, and when he pauses, she does as well with her writing, "But?"

"Butt," Terushima echoes incorrectly and pouts when no one was paying any mind to him.

Bobata shakes his head, he was probably just imagining that something happened because of how dull his days have grown, "No, there's nothing else, that's all."

"Keep a sharp eye, Bobata-kun," she nods and drops her hands to her sides, "We've been getting complaints from the swimming club. They say things are amiss and we're just trying to keep the students safe," she walks away and leaves Bobata with a larger burden of responsibility on his shoulders, they sag with the invisible weight.

"No pressure," Terushima attempts to mimic her soft voice in jest, Bobata looks over at him and feels a little more relaxed to see Terushima grinning up at him, "she's bullshitting, just keep doing you, man." 

It's been over a month, Bobata feels frail and took up into training physically again in the weekends and goes to runs early in the morning before school. He doesn't run far, but he always tries to make the extra mile by the day.

A week after that, he's by the pool's hallway again. No one is even here today, despite it being so much warmer around here than most parts of the school. The heaters work the best here, and the heaters in the pool would soon be turned on everyday for the winter. What he'd do to take a nice, warm dip right now. Bobata is only a little over ten metres away from the door when he notices that the chains that held the doors firmly closed were on the floor.

That was it. Last time he noticed something weird, it was because the rusty lock was replaced by string firmly secured around the chains two weeks ago. He didn't have the right mind to remember clearly and when he came back the next day the lock was still there - but the string could've been there and perhaps his eyes weren't actually tricking him.

He strolled closer and the lock was there. No. This is a new lock, it's shinier. He crouches down and examines it, his hand absentmindedly grabbing at the handle when he tried standing up again, the door clicks and pushes slightly. Bobata tenses and grabs a small look of the reflecting pool's waves and odd shadows against the tiles of the ceiling. No one's supposed to be inside, there's no practice, he'd know. Bobata hears someone behind him.

"What are you doing?" Terushima inquires and Bobata jolts, pulling the door back closed and turning all the way to face him, anxiousness welling up in his throat.

"I didn't do anything, honest!" Bobata throws his hands up in defence when Terushima finishes analysing the chains on the floor and connects it to his previous opening of the door, "Someone busted the lock or something! Terushima, listen!"

"Chill, man," Terushima chuckles as he walks up to him, "I believe ya, don't need to shout," he smiles assuringly up at him, "But that secretary chick's gonna fucking flip," he laughs again and gestures to the chains on the floor.

"What do I do?" Bobata sounds like his pleading for help, and he was. Terushima's sharp mind should get him out of this mess. What if someone was framing him for breaking into school premises?

"I don't know," Terushima grumbles, already walking away, "gonna go see Futamata, he said he needed help in some schoolwork, I was gonna ask if you'd come but I can see that you've got your hands all chained up." Terushima barks a laugh when he looks over his shoulder and is met with Bobata's scornful face. He waves behind him and leaves Bobata on his own with his uprising and irrational worries.

Why is no one here? But why the fuck would the persecutor even be here anyway? Why isn't anyone here at all? Is everyone a suspect? Is this payback? Why is Terushima just leaving him alone?

After a few minutes of pacing in fret, Sakuragi is running down the stairs and looks completely out of character with his winded features. Yoshino, who always tagged behind, looked like a bigger mess, "What happened? Terushima-kun told us there was a break-in." 

Sakuragi's eyes followed to where Bobata pointed behind him with his thumb. Sakuragi groans and runs a hand uselessly through his dishevelled hair and pushes through. He doesn't even look at the lock and the chains as he pushes the door open. Bobata was watching Yoshino write down her notes before her gasp caught his attention. He risked a glance behind him and it forced him to turn completely and enter the centre after Sakuragi.

Bobata was standing beside Sakuragi, he was fighting for the words to say, this place's condition was his responsibility and he was standing under terrible lighting at the moment. 

"It is not your fault, Bobata-kun," Sakuragi assures him like he was reading his mind, "this really could not have been be avoided." 

The storage room was still locked, no harm in that area and not a single swimming equipment was out of place.

The pool however was indifferent. Possibly over a thousand of origami roses littered its surface in all the shades of pink and red.

He was impressed and awestruck. It looked like something straight out of a shoujo manga. But this was probably considered hostile rather than romantic.

"But that doesn't mean you're not going to be the one cleaning it up," Sakuragi slaps his back gently and turns away, "Yoshino, get this all down. I want a full report on this so we can have this persecutor suspended immediately."

"Suspended?" Terushima's voice echoes through the pool centre as he lifts his net up and pulls out some soggy paper flowers with it. No one else was bothered to help Bobata other than Terushima and it made Terushima more bitter about everything to the max.

They held the after school meeting in the centre so all the other members could get a glimpse of the offence. 

"Of course, this is not some laughing matter. These papers could possess poisonous toxins that could harm the students," Sakuragi explains.

"This isn't some anime, guy," Terushima snarls, propping his net's handle on the ground and supporting his weight on it, "no one's here to kill anyone."

"Besides," Bobata says with a large heave of his overflowing net of flowers, "Weren't our actions more harmful to the students? - Can you fucking stop?" Bobata snaps at the photographer student that came with his pal to report the whole situation.

"Sorry, buddy, we're getting every single juice out of this story whether ya like it or not," the reporter smiles smugly at him, her pen in hand and notepad in the other - she was a reincarnation of Yoshino because this was the first time she removes her pen from the pad. Their ancestors must be linked.

Bobata rolls his eyes at them and pretends they don't exist even though the photographer was mercilessly capturing all his bad angles and Terushima's best as they scooped up the rest of the papers.

"The only reason you were not was because Terushima-kun was a part of it," Sakuragi sighs, removing his glasses and rubbing his temple, "the teachers would rather write 'was part of the student council' on his transcript than 'was a nuisance to his school'," and his reasoning made Terushima growl.

"Then what about Bobata?" He lowers his head but doesn't break his gaze off of Sakuragi.

"I was not informed," he fixes his glasses back on and leans over to whisper something to Yoshino who only shakes her head, "You will have to ask for yourself, I guess."

Terushima throws his net down and storms out. Leaving everyone baffled and Bobata grumbling under his breath about not caring nor needing to know about anything. 

He's made the extra mile in only six days. He doesn't ask Terushima to hang out at all that week so he had more time to do more training. 

"You haven't come by in a long time, Yuuji. It's good to see you, again," Bobata's dad greets him and Bobata hears the door shut from his bedroom.

They're loud as they chat. There was a joke about buying milk and after a while Terushima says he'd love to stay for dinner and Bobata takes it as his cue to lock the door but Terushima was already opening it by the time he was halfway through his room.

"You look hot, man," Terushima chuckles, and reddens at his own words, his lips stretching into a straight line anxiously, "I mean, like, you're sweating a lot."

"I'm gonna go take a shower then," he proclaims, rummaging through his drawers for clean clothes and steps out.

He showers and gets dressed by the time dinner is served. Terushima is freely conversing with Bobata's dad and his fiancée. Bobata, on the other hand, was feeling uncomfortable under all this tension in his chest and the lump in his throat. He hasn't spoken to Terushima properly for some time and ignored him the whole weekend.

When dinner ends, Terushima follows Bobata into his room, laying down on his bed and making himself comfortable. Bobata sits uneasily by his study desk, fidgeting with his earphones that hung off his phone from when he was working out previously.

"I can't believe you're already ahead of me, man," Terushima wonders aloud, "I really need to catch up on training to beat you."

"You're not supposed to beat your teammate," Bobata murmurs, turning completely away from where Terushima laid, "But I wouldn't mind taking that as a rivalry challenge," he tugs the edges of his lips upwards lightly and unplugs his earphones to replug into his laptop.

"You're on," Bobata hears Terushima shift on his bed and ruffle up his sheets, he looks over and watches Terushima pull the volleyball out from under the bed and lays back down, "By the way," he pauses and throws the ball up in the air to catch three consecutive times, "why're you pissed at me?"

His heart misses a beat.

"I'm not pissed, just getting restless, I guess," Bobata exhales deeply and turns back to his laptop, watching the password screen flicker bright but he didn't move to type anything.

"Am I doing something wrong?" He could hear the ball being tossed about again and again, the constant sound was enough to bring Bobata's heads out of the clouds for now.

"I don't know, I don't think so," Bobata hates himself for not being brutally honest, so he blurts it out before regrets eats him up, "You're- you're being too controlling man. I mean, we're not kids anymore, I don't-I don't need you to speak up for me or defend me anymore. I can take care of myself," Terushima stops tossing the ball and Bobata's mind feels like it's going into overthinking mode. He flickers his eyes for anything to look at and they land on the indicator in the password text box. 

"Oh," the ball falls on the floor with a thud, it throws Bobata off focus for a second and he has to keep his breathing in check. "I'm sorry I didn't realise." Bobata gulps when the lump reforms in his throat. "I guess I was just used to old habits," his laugh breaks off some of the tension and relieves most of Bobata's nerves. "You were such a huge crybaby man, I guess I just felt the need to take custody over you and..." Terushima sits upright on the bed and brings his feet to the wooden flooring just as Bobata turns to face him again. "And I guess I haven't grown out of the need to, I'm sorry," he scratches the back of his neck and cranes it a little far off its rightful straight position.

"All is forgiven."

His dad's fiancée comes in with two popsicles, Terushima wins a prize and pockets his finished popsicle. 

Bobata eventually turns his laptop on and they watch videos of recent national volleyball tournaments on the floor, grasping techniques, reading moves, analysing the teamwork and getting a good idea of the mood. Bobata could have sworn Terushima was awake when he rests his head on his shoulder, but he was proven wrong when he side-glances to see that his eyes were closed shut.

"I want this figured out and I want it done now! This would only continue if left any longer! The swimming club has my hands full from all the complaints!" Sakuragi had been spouting orders around the pool centre for most of the lunch break, looking more stressed than the man with the weight of world in his shoulders.

"Your hair's greying, Prez," Terushima yells across the pool, crouching and using a pool noodle to direct inflated balloons towards the edge of the pool as Bobata fished them out with the net. 

"No, it's not!" Sakuragi stomps his feet and it only makes him bend just how Terushima wanted, Bobata catches him even bite his tongue after that outburst.

Bobata snickers and bonks Terushima's head as he swings his net around, "whoops, sorry, dude." 

"Bad karma!" someone calls out from across but Bobata was more afraid of how Terushima rose to his feet, pool noodle wielded like a double-edged sword.

"You dare challenge me, you gaunt fiend?" He points his weapon at Bobata who reciprocates by jerking his long-handled net like a spear.

"You're hardly a challenge, felon," Bobata retorts with a smirk and they clash their weapons in slow-motion. 

They go on for less than a minute before Bobata's opponent is shoved into the pool by an interference.

Terushima emerges from the water and grabs onto his noodle for dear life. Bobata shifts his gaze to Sakuragi who practically had fumes puffing out of his ears, "You'll be joining him if this continues? Do I make myself clear?"

"Crystal," he gulps and awkwardly throws his hand up in salute as he slams his net down on the floor and buffs his chest. 

"Good," he sighs before regrouping with Yoshino and exiting the centre with the rest of the council following close behind. 

"What's his damage?" Terushima mutters as he pulls himself out by the ladder and shrugs his blazer off, wringing the water out.

Bobata watches how the white dress-shirt clings to his body like a second skin, looking away when he sees that his nipples were also visible. "I feel kinda bad now, since I'm supposed to keep watch and all," Bobata admits submissively and goes back to retracting the vibrant coloured balloons from of the swimming pool.

"S'not, you were keeping guarding this whole time," Terushima assures, obligating to unbutton his shirt and scrunch it up to rid of the water. He was standing half-naked next to Bobata now and he honestly didn't know what to make of it. It's been long since they changed in front of each other and he didn't know he would withdraw from of the habit of seeing his best friend shirtless so soon.

"Yeah, I guess. It's also pretty obvious that the culprit is acting before or after school hours," he notices through the corner of his eye that Terushima stops stretching his shirt at his words.

"Well, yeah, I guess we can know that much," Terushima agrees and goes back to wringing his shirt.

"It's been about two weeks since the last offence too, so maybe it's not a group's work," Bobata suggests, moving away from Terushima to stir the balloons closer from the other corner.

Terushima isn't replying, he's being slow to grasp at it, "What if they have a partner though?" Terushima suggests, his eyes were glued to the balloons that were piled into a laundry basket, "It seems kinda impossible even for one person to plan it all out alone and even commit the act."

Bobata was about to also mention that the centre had a second entrance opposite to the initial one, but he noticed that one of the yellow balloons had more than just air in them. "Terushima, check this out," his voice buzzes in his chest from how low it was, he prods the extra balloons out of the way and netted the special yellow. He drops the net once he clutches the balloon in his hand. Terushima was already at his side. "What do you think it is?" Bobata rotates the balloon at every angle, trying to get a better look at what seemed to just be a blank sheet of paper.

"Only one way to find out," Terushima fishes through his water-sodden trouser pockets and pulls out the old fountain that he stole from Sakuragi weeks ago. He was about to jab it into the balloon when Bobata outstretched it above his head to avoid the pop. 

"Woah, woah, woah," Bobata interjects, eyes trained to the tip of the pen that was about to prick his chest, "shouldn't we first report this? Why do you still have the Prez's pen anyway?" 

"Because he's a crook," the entrance closes shut with an eerie creak, Terushima-sensei stood promptly straighter when their eyes landed on him, his shit-eating grin already starting to boil the blood in Bobata's veins, "and he never learns his lesson."

"This place is off-limits," Terushima roars, "piss off."

"What's anyone going to do with you, Yuuji?" He grouses with pursed his lips, eyebrows knitted in obvious exasperation. "And here I thought the student council would tame that spiteful attitude of yours. Is there nothing we can do to make you a presentable student?"

"Get out of my life," Terushima sneers, like it was just that easy and his whole behaviour would do a one-eighty at the drop of a hat. 

"Terushima-sensei, could you please leave the premises? The pool isn't open to anyone at the moment," Bobata drops the hand that he still had above his head, walking over to the basket and discarding the special yellow like all the others.

"Alright, Bobata, no need to be so formal," he surrenders and pushes at the handle, jerking a nod towards Bobata and throwing Terushima another wicked grin before leaving completely, "Good luck with cleaning up, hope you catch the felons soon."

"Fuckin' asshole, doesn't know what he says at all, always nosey and butting himself into other people's businesses," Terushima mutters more profanities along with his ranting as he goes over to the basket and stabs the special yellow like he was picturing it as his brother himself. He snatches the paper from where it slid between the other balloons and shoves it into Bobata's pocket. He trudges to his pile of clothes and puts his shirt back on slackly and stomps over to the doors, "I'm going to change, give it to the Prez, I don't fucking care anymore." 

"O-okay," Bobata stammers, not touching the paper again as he watched him exit and even as he proceeded to cleaning up the dirty work on his own.

Bobata didn't finish by the first break, so he had to continue onto the next. Terushima didn't come to help him, but Futamata did as consolation. When he earned the privilege of witnessing the damage of an ongoing prank, he let out the lowest whistle that only made Bobata's stomach churn. 

He was going on about how practice had been going, even though he updated them regularly enough. "We're not functioning like how we used to, Terushima was the one who rounded us second-years. The upperclassmen are being too stern about the training." He's been bitching for the most part and Bobata honestly didn't have the heart to stop him.

"It's not like he's never coming back," Bobata reassures, putting the leftover balloons into the garbage bag that Futamata held up for him.

"How long has it been anyway? A month?"

"A month and three weeks," Bobata pauses, hand going up to tap his chin for a few seconds, "and four days."

"Fuck, really?" Futamata staggers back a little and ends up stepping on a balloon, he yelps when it bursts and his fuss causes him to stomp onto another one. 

"I'm struggling, man," Bobata confesses, "the prez might not admit it, but he's definitely pissed about how many times someone has snuck in," he puffs out most of his breath and inhales like he was dreading to. 

"You're overthinking, you're not the one on night duty," Futamata shrugs, his hand was over his chest like his heart was still thumping hard from the sudden balloons eruptions.

"Sakuragi suggested that the school keeps a tighter safeguard, but the dean won't let that disrupt his perfect budget," Bobata throws his net to the side, not in the mood to work anymore. He sits cross-legged by the edge of the pool, peering into his rippling reflection with a broody expression.

"What about getting footage?" Futamata crouches to his side, an inflated balloon was in his hand and he unfurled it to let the air out, replacing it with water from the pool.

"They heat the pool now, it gets humid at night, they'd either only damage the cameras or just not catch a single thing through the fogged up lenses," Bobata honestly didn't even ask why they didn't try filming the act because he figured that Sakuragi was smart enough to consider it himself at some point. "Besides, it's not like the offences are scheduled."

"Guess only time would tell," Futamata gives in dropping the ballon in between his feet and leaving it there when he stood up to pick up his trash bag again. 

The yellow balloon reminded him of the paper he had in his pocket, but when he searched through it for it, it wasn't there anymore.

He's such a dunce for losing what could possibly be their only clue to this situation. He'd beat himself up for it later. He didn't even bring it up in the after school meeting, searching wildly for it through the halls and even forcing Terushima to tag along.

"It's just a piece of paper," Terushima's been grouchy ever since the encounter with his brother at the pool, so his attitude was understandable. "It's probably just a waste of time, not like anyone would write: 'by the way, I'm - dot dot dot - the persecutor, catch me' in curvy writing with dainty hearts," he scoffs scornfully, but despite that he was also retracing Bobata's steps of the day by the heel. He was crouched in between the desks in Bobata's classroom, searching vigilantly for anything on the ground or in book trays.

Bobata flips the trashcan over and began filtering through the junk with a metre-ruler, "You'd never know," Bobata gags when the pungent smell of day-old yakisoba and sausage fume into his nostrils, "they're probably just dying to be figured out and are getting impatient," he adds gruffly and resorts to just shoving all the bad food and torn-up test scores back into the trashcan.  

They don't exchange anymore words, and after over an hour of just looking they decide to call it a day.

"It's Friday, my brother might come over for dinner..."

"What's for dinner?" 

At the Terushima household, Terushima's brother had his lips sealed and his hands on the table as they ate.

His parents ask about how the student council was going and Bobata complies to answer earnestly about the newest occurrence at the pool centre. They didn't ask anymore questions and Bobata left only after Terushima's brother did.

"Thanks," Terushima musters up to finally speak to him at the door.

"Please invite whenever you guys have tempera udon," Bobata chuckles, and shrugs his jacket on as he leaves, "and also when sleazy weasels come creeping in," he points to the black car that reverses out of the driveway and turns onto the road without even making sure the oncoming car was out of range. The collision was so close that they both muttered 'holy shit' under their breaths.

"That guy has a death wish, I can't deal with him," Terushima shakes his head and walks back inside, holding the door halfway closed, "you going for a run tomorrow?"

"Care to join?" Bobata smirks over his shoulder and Terushima grimaces in reaction.

"Don't you get up at the ass-crack of dawn?"

"Four in the morning," he feels obliged to correct and it only makes Terushima look more disgusted.

"Yeah, fuck no, I need my beauty sleep," Terushima rebuffs fiercely, "night, Boba."

"Goodnight, Terushima." 

"Can you show me how to do a valley fold on this part?" Numajiri was the one to visit today. He was trying to fold his leaping frog for the whole break time that Bobata was considering shredding his helpless frog into smithereens by now.

"You're supposed to make a mountain fold here, fucking idiot," Bobata glowers in menace as Numajiri innocently slides the sloppy origami piece into his hands and lets him crease it for him.

"You sure are grumpy today," he croons a little incoherently and leans back against the window sills to watch Bobata unfold it to fix the rough creases from previous steps before swiftly proceeding to fold it properly, "didn't get enough sleep?"

 Anyone would question the bags under Bobata's eyes. Despite not getting a single wink of sleep the previous night, he still stayed true to his ambitions and went for his morning run. He didn't run far, and it was bitter determination that made him run back home wearily and arrive at school later than intended.

"Why're you folding a frog anyway?" He switches the subject and bends down to set the frog on the floor. He withdraws it and watches it make a lousy jump that showed that his right leg was clearly longer than his left. "It's pathetic."

"I know, that's why I had you fold it for me. Show me again, I wanna get it right," Numajiri bends down to snatch the frog off and unfolds it delicately. Bobata gets back on his feet and redoes the process like he was on some kid's tv show, demonstrating each step like Numajiri wouldn't get it the first time if he moves too fast.

"You didn't answer me, why are you doing this?" Bobata flicks his eyes discreetly down at Numajiri for a second to read his expression, he only looked more perplexed as the frog developed gradually in Bobata's hands. 

"My sister's having a hard time in her school, I wanna teach her something to show off to her friends," he answers in a hushed tone, also asking him to go back two steps and redo them both even slower.

"The pre-schooler? Just have your mom teach her," Bobata groans, undoing the crease when he could tell that Numajiri still didn't grasp it, "Just practice man, you won't learn if you don't try." He tosses the half-done frog into his hand and walks away when the bell signifies the end of the break. 

Numajiri rushes to his side and despite what Bobata just said, he still asks for help.

When they were given self-study for the rest of the hour, Futamata decided to ask for directions in folding a helmet when he witnessed Numajiri squabble over his dying frog on the floor. 

 The next week, the indoor heating was set and the warm water was proven to only be a liability to their case. It helped the diffusion of orange jell-o and it honestly looked too tempting not to dive in, Bobata refrained himself when he saw veins poke at Sakuragi's temple as he snarled at the scene.

"Yoshino!"

"On it!"

Bobata was glad that for once he was incapable to cleaning this mess up himself and that professional aid was required.

"I think the jelly one was my favourite," Terushima confesses over at McDonald's. Futamata and Numajiri also took into account to join them.

"Yeah, well, it looks kinda gross in my opinion," Numajiri retorts and when he slams his hand on his tray, half his fries sliding into Bobata's.

"The balloons looked cooler, man," Futamata insists and slurps on his soda drink, making everyone give him a displeased look but that didn't stop him.

"Why are you guys choosing which was the best?" Bobata mumbles and robs Numajiri of his trespassing fries, he whines in protest but was being ignored.

"Because they were hilarious?" Terushima stumbles over his words, more out of confusion than anything else, "Did you see Prez's face?" He grins and it was followed by a loud laugh.

"He probably pissed his pants out of frustration," Bobata nods and stifles his smile by shoving half his burger into his mouth. 

Futamata whinges about not being able to see that. Bobata slaps away Numajiri's hands that were getting grabby at his fries. Terushima shuts them up when they attempt to progress into the topic so he brings up another and keeps trying to avert it from anything to do with the student council and pool monitoring duties.

Two weeks go by. When he finally got enough sleep, Bobata managed to run farther than before. He was nearing the school grounds when he knew his lungs would give out and the first signs of dawn were approaching. 

He couldn't stop himself, untangling himself from his earphones, he entered school premises and rounded to the back door that led into the  pool centre. He can see that the door was unlocked, the key was still hanging off the keyhole. It bore a keychain, a collector's Garigari-kun figurine. He's never seen it before.

What kinda sap would like such a thing? The ice cream was great and all, but it's kinda embarrassing to carry around.

There were garbage bags set aside by the door, he peers into them and sees a wad of confetti in them and some origami boats thrown into the mix. He hears shuffling around the corner so he peels his attention away from the bags and takes a round check near all the school walls. When he accepts it to be just him being overwhelmed and overreacting, he goes back to the crime scene to find the bags gone and the key retrieved.

He tugs at the door and it's not even locked, when he walks in and takes deep measures to check, there was not a single confetti in the pool and so he deems it soulless.

That day, when he arrives to school, the in-building pool centre entrance was locked but strangely it was reopened by lunch break. He already rallied the whole student council and Sakuragi was calmer this time when they all take in the mess of shrivelled confetti papers in the pool and half-submerged boats bumping into each other and collecting confetti at their sides.

"You're oddly quiet, Specs," Terushima notes out loud and he makes Sakuragi flinch when he pokes at his side.

"This has gone too far. We will put this felon in prison if we must," Sakuragi veers his direction to Bobata who still stood by the door, he pushes passed him, but not before tutting at him, "Figure this out or we will be depriving you of volleyball for the rest of your high school years."

Bobata's face pales and Terushima shines him a look of concern from across the room, Bobata doesn't speak to him as they were the only ones cleaning up the mess of sodden colours. He's too scared now, because he was so close to figuring it out just this morning but he was outsmarted.

"You look kinda down," Terushima discerns Bobata's moping and compels to setting his net aside and offering him his full attention.

"I was close to finding this crook," he knows it's okay to confide in Terushima, because Terushima would help him catch the persecutor and he'd finally uplift all this pressure from his shoulders and chest, "would you keep a lookout for a Garigari-kun keychain for me?"

"Done," Terushima's worrying features soften into a small smile when Bobata looks up at him with trusting eyes. "We can even interrogate some fuckers if you want."

"You go ahead, I just wanna be laid off this labour work already-" and there... It's laminated and it's floating amongst the dissolving confetti paper. It's similar to the note they found in the special yellow just weeks ago.  He forgets about his duty and calmly drifts the note towards them. He picks it up just as it falls into reach and it's blank on its face.

Terushima scrambles to his feet and takes a look at the fragment of paper himself. He seizes it and flips it over, there were words ghosting in the diffusing ink. The paper wasn't laminated properly and Terushima lets out a groan, "These guys are really just fucking with us." 

Bobata makes an attempt at decoding it, "What's it going to... take?" Bobata was stuttering it out and Terushima looked up at him quizzically.

"What?"

"I don't know, I could be wrong, it could be 'What gong took...' or something, like a sappy riddle," Bobata japes as he takes the paper back in his hand and tries to reanalyse it.

"Lame," Terushima scowls and walks away to leave Bobata alone to clean up the rest of the mess.

"What're you doing?"

"Going to report?"

"Without this?" The paper slips out of his hand and falls vertically into the pool, plunging deep down. Just as Bobata cusses and tries to fish it back out, Terushima was already out through the doors.

When he eventually retrieves it, the words are all smudged into beyond illegible characters and Sakuragi didn't really care for it when he presented it - called it meaningless and that he'd have to keep searching if he wanted him to get out of his hair.

On the walk home, Terushima treats Bobata to pork buns. He eats it too fast and ends up feeling sick, but he still makes Terushima buy him another and as he ate his second helping a little slower, he feels a twinge in his heart. "You okay?"

"I want another," Bobata burps out, still not even done with his second. He glances at Terushima's hands and notices that there were splotches of ink on his fingers. They were stained for over a week now, but some were newer than the others.

Terushima silently complies and hands him another freshly baked bun without exchanging a word, sitting next to him on the bench across the vendor. 

Terushima barely nibbles at his share, Bobata starts eating both once and it sends Terushima into an alarming frenzy of worry when his eyes glisten and threaten to spill tears.

"Bobata..." his hand touches his back gently and it soothes him like witchcraft. It wasn't the heat of the buns but the warmth of Terushima's hand that kinda makes him melt. "If you hate it so much then let's do something about it, Specs has no reason to pressure you so much about it..."

"Does he tell you anything?" Bobata sniffles, pausing his munching to stare at his half-eaten buns as if they were only made to disservice.

"Well, yeah, but it goes through one ear and our the other, y'know?" He chuckles nervously and stares down at his own bun like it was lulling him to sleep.

"I'm sorry, I'm just not used to having so much attention and responsibility on me," Bobata's voice trails off at the end, feeling more pathetic for how he was behaving in front of his best friend.

"I understand, and it's not your fault. I'm sorry for not being too helpful, I promise I'll get you out of this mess in no time," he lifts his fist and Bobata could only watch him in awe. He doesn't know what was this tightness in his chest, this fluid movement in his stomach and this flutter in his heart.

He doesn't think much of it as he bumps his fist against Terushima's with lanky enthusiasm. 

Ah, it makes sense.

Bobata was in the middle of his math class when he catches himself thinking of Terushima. His eyes. His lips. His words. His touch. He couldn't stop the train of thoughts, he didn't want to. He was kind and thoughtful. He never left Bobata out in anything, not because he sympathised with him but because he actually wanted him around. Terushima was always heartfelt towards him and it was probably expected for him to finally fall for him. Bobata's heart was racing and he didn't know what to do. He can't tell him, he'd ruin their friendship. He'd do more than that, it would seem like he'd been using him. He'd just have to pretend his feelings for him weren't there. 

On his run to school after three weeks of the last offence, he sees Futamata. He doesn't engage in a conversation or call out to him when he sees Numajiri and Tsuchiyu joining up with him. They were all sleepy messes as they strolled in the opposite direction of the school, in tracksuits and yawning in possible mid-sentences. Bobata shuffles out of their perpetual vision and makes a run for it to the school grounds.

The back door was unlocked and open, Garigari-kun hung there on the key like the gleaming bastard he was. No bags were near the door. When he enters the building, he isn't surprised in the least by the origami cranes that were scattered over the pool's surface. Probably a thousand if taken into counting, they were all colourful.

No one was here, but the other entrance was left ajar because there was something wedged up against the door. He leaves the wandering cranes in peace as they gracefully rippled the waters. 

When he reaches the door, he picks up the only white crane discovered. It's crumpled up from the door, its poor left wing broken and beak busted. It wasn't puffed up, but it had blank ink on its back.

Bobata's heart thrummed in his ear as he pulled the door all the way open and began dragging his sweaty ass up the stairs and across the school. Every class was empty on their floor, he resorts to checking the student council room.

The curtains were drawn but he could see the silhouette of the persecutor through the sunlight shining onto his back. 

Bobata forces his voice out of his throat, not liking how eerily silent the barging in had let on, "Why did you do it?"

"Did you bother asking the crane?" His voice was raspy and it made Bobata feel less anxious about confronting him.

"I wanna hear it from you," Bobata crushes the crane in his hand and waits for him to turn around before continuing, "Yuuji..." 

He gives him a slack, lazy smile and rolls his eyes playfully at him, "If you hadn't taken too long to read over the first, I wouldn't have had to continue at all."

"What did the flowers or the jell-o mix have to do with the papers?" Bobata clenches both his hands now, his knuckles turning white.

"There was a white flower, but you just batted your eyes away from it. Garigari-kun was submerged in the jelly water, I was honestly surprised when you still haven't made the connection to him and me when you almost caught us throwing confetti into the pool."

He knows about the others. His guess was wrong about it being one person, and even Terushima, the crook himself, tried to correct him. Terushima must have gotten the keychain from his winning popsicle.

Bobata relaxes his hands and shrugs, "Guess I'm just slow." 

"You really are," Terushima confirms, strolling up to up and getting under better lighting. He was also wearing a tracksuit, but his jacket was missing. He reaches out and tugs at the crane in Bobata's hand, who loosened his grip reluctantly and let him retrieve it.

His hands were still stained with ink, and when he unravels the abused crane, it also possessed just as many blotches of ink around partially illegible words.

"Were you attempting calligraphy?" Bobata jests, not letting his eyes rake over the characters too closely in fear of actually catching a glimpse of what it read. 

"Fight me," Terushima grumbles, clearing his throat as if to recite the message he had jotted onto the note.

Bobata was quick to clamp his hand over his mouth, "I don't wanna hear it." Terushima cocks an eyebrow at him, beckoning him for a reason why. "Are you being for real right now? Terushima, you could get expelled at this point if you're found out, do you realise that? Was it really all worth what you have written on that note?" Bobata was distressed, his chest heaving and his heart pulsing through every nerve. Terushima can't be serious.

With his mouth still covered, Bobata can still feel his smirk against his palm as he held up the note right in between their faces. Bobata shuts his eyes as soon as he catches the second last word. He grabs at Terushima's hand and brings it down, his other hand slipping down to cup his face as he crashes his lips against Terushima's.

I see you, alright? I can fucking see you and I fucking love you...

He doesn't think he has it wrong when Terushima lets the note flutter to the floor and slides his fingers between Bobata's, the other hand gripping his waist as he kisses him back. 

And kisses him for so long. They didn't pull away and Terushima was just a trembling mess under his clutch. Bobata kisses him hard but he could never beat Terushima when it came to passion behind the kiss. They pull away to catch their breaths, their foreheads resting against each other and Terushima laughs.

"You're going to get in so much shit with Sakuragi-"

"It's fine, isn't it?" Terushima interjects, nuzzling their noses as he stared down at Bobata's lips. "I think I did a pretty good job so aren't you impressed?"

Bobata reconnects their lips, "yeah, quite impressed," he mumbles against his lips and the smile that he feels against his own was enough to let him know that this kid was more than just another stud. Arrogant or not, uptight or not, big-mouthed or not. He was his best friend, his partner in crime, his guardian, his newfound lover.

And Bobata would make sure to show him just how much he meant to him.